“How the hell did you talk me into this?” Aaron Clark asked his best friend, not for the first time
that night.
Ben turned around and smiled up at him. If Aaron hadn’t known the club’s regular bartender
better, he might have believed the sweet, innocent little look in the smaller man’s eyes. As it was,
Aaron merely turned his attention heavenward and wished like hell he wasn’t such a soft touch
when someone approached him for a favour.
“It’s for charity,” Ben reminded him, absentmindedly, already turning away.
The fact that his humiliation was going to raise money for a good cause failed to make Aaron feel
the least bit better about the world. It also failed to make the minuscule thong that Ben had cajoled
him into, any bigger. Aaron shuffled his bare feet against the bare floorboards as he glanced along
the increasingly short line of men between him and the gap in the curtains leading to the back of the
makeshift stage.
“How big a donation would I need to make, right now, if I wanted to get out of this?” Aaron
asked. He was pretty sure he’d happily bankrupt himself to be able to run away and scramble back
into the clothes he usually wore when he worked on the door of the club.
“It’ll be fine,” Ben soothed vaguely, patting Aaron’s arm as he stood on tiptoe in an effort to get a
better view.
Aaron was tall enough to have a perfectly good line of sight without moving a muscle. Another
man had disappeared from the queue between him and the worse moment of his life.
“Ben—” he began again.
An extremely muscular
man stands with his back
to the camera. He is naked
except for a thick leather
belt around his waist
chained to a matching set
of cuffs around his wrists.
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“It’s Christmas,” Ben cut in. He actually fluttered his eyelashes up at him as he said it. “It’s
traditional to give to charity, to help those who are less fortunate than yourself, and stuff.”
“Yeah, well, there must be other ways to—”
A cheer went up on the other side of the curtain. Aaron’s mouth went dry. He promptly forgot
how to speak.
Behind his back, Aaron’s hands tightened into fists and tugged at the cuffs Ben had somehow
managed to convince him would be the perfect addition to his damn near non-existent outfit.
All Aaron’s squirming succeeded in doing, was to pull at the thick leather belt around his waist.
Dropping his gaze to the floor in front of him, he tried to take a deep breath to settle his nerves, but
his eyes went straight to that silly little thong.
“Ben—”
“Ben Chambers!” someone called from the stage.
With one last grin over his shoulder, Ben disappeared through the gap in the curtains. Aaron
watched, growing paler by the second, as Ben’s light footsteps carried him forward to stand next to
the auctioneer for the evening.
The crowd whooped with delight at the sight of him. Aaron couldn’t bring himself to be
surprised. He was pretty sure Ben was exactly what every dominant fantasised about every time he
took his cock in hand.
Big blue eyes, floppy blond hair and a cute little arse—when a perfect smile and grade-A flirting
talent was thrown into the mix, it was only natural that he should be one of the most popular men
in the club.
Ben bowed to his delighted audience. The leather harness and cuffs he was wearing only made
his skin look paler and the light lines of muscle that graced his limbs more elegant.
Someone shouted something from the crowd. Ben cheerfully changed his bow to a low, theatrical
curtsey and pretended to fan himself as he smiled coyly over the top of the imaginary prop.
Watching his performance through the gap in the curtains, Aaron did his best not to
hyperventilate. It wasn’t as easy as it should have been. By the time Ben practically leapt off the
stage into the arms of his winning bidder, Aaron’s lungs had completely given up on their assigned
task. His head was spinning from lack of oxygen.
There was no way in hell he was going out there. Aaron shook his head at the very possibility.
“Aaron Clark!”
Someone behind Aaron elbowed him in the back, as if they thought there really was some
possibility he hadn’t heard his name being called. “You’re up!”
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Actually, he wasn’t. Walking onto the stage sporting a flourishing erection was one of the few
problems he didn’t have. His feet remained rooted to the spot.
“Aaron Clark?” the auctioneer called again.
The elbow-er standing behind Aaron gave him a push toward the gap in the curtains. He
stumbled forward. His shoulders brushed against the rich red velvet. The spotlight blinded him. He
tried to lift his hands to shield his eyes, but the cuffs stopped him short. Instinct led him to the
auctioneer’s side, but even after his eyes adjusted to the stage lighting, he found it impossible to
make out any detail of the dominants in the crowd past it.
That was something to be grateful for. Next time he worked on the door, he wouldn’t have to
know which doms he allowed into the club had seen him up there making a complete pillock out of
himself. And he couldn’t tell if Mr. Patterson, the owner of the club, was out there either.
From somewhere far, far away, Aaron heard the auctioneer read out his stats, but his mind easily
converted the numbers into the reality they represented.
Height—A damn sight taller than the vast majority of the doms there.
Weight—Too much. And the fact it was all muscle didn’t magically make him light enough to sit
on a master’s knee the way Ben was so fond of doing.
Age—Did it really matter? It wasn’t as if anyone would still be listening at that point.
“He’s bloody huge!”
Only one man in the crowd shouted it, but Aaron knew that most of the others would be thinking
the same thing. A moment later another cat-call emerged from the crowd, ready to prove all of
Aaron’s fears true. Swallowing rapidly, he tried like hell not to blush and completely failed.
Keeping his gaze lowered, all he could do was stand very still and pray for it to be over.
“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be nice to lay a whip to someone who won’t break at the first blow!”
someone shouted.
“Built like an ox—and I’ve got a new bull whip to test out,” someone else said.
It took Aaron more than a few seconds to realise the tone of the comments had changed. The
serious dominants might have lost interest when they saw the size of him, but Aaron had allowed
hardcore sadists into the club often enough to be able to recognise most of their voices.
Belonging to any of them for four hours might hurt like hell, but right then, Aaron was willing to
take that over the abject humiliation of not receiving a single bid.
To Aaron’s side, the auctioneer opened the bidding. The values weren’t as high as those being
offered up for Ben’s time, but there were numbers—and they were going up rather than down.
*
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(Story continues in next message)
“They’ll skin the poor sod…”
Luke Patterson heard the man sitting next to him at the bar say the words, but he’d be damned if
he was just going to sit back and watch his neighbour's prediction come true. Catching the
auctioneer’s eye, Patterson nodded once and raised the bidding a little further.
Keeping his bids subtle enough that he didn’t attract any extra interest in paying for Aaron’s
time, Patterson quietly raised the stakes until each and every sadist who’d considered using the
bouncer as his new whipping boy fell by the wayside.
It was only when the gavel fell, that Patterson turned his gaze away from the auctioneer and
back to Aaron. The submissive stood near the edge of the stage, peering out into the crowd, but he
obviously had no idea who’d won the bidding war on him. Neither did any of the other doms—not
until Patterson left his barstool and made his way up to the edge of the stage to collect his prize.
A few whispers started up as he reached the bottom of the little flight of stairs that led up to
Aaron. Patterson had a fair idea what they would be saying. He might have been happy for the
auction to take place in his club and raise money for the worthy cause of the year, but he has never
gone so far as to support it by actually placing a bid on any of the ‘slaves’ who put themselves under
the hammer.
The bouncer blinked down at him, as if he still didn’t understand what was going on.
“Come along,” Patterson said, with a jerk of his head. His tone of voice seemed to break through
whatever was holding Aaron frozen in place.
The boy took a step forward, then another, until he’d come down the steps and stood at
Patterson’s side.
“Follow me.”
Patterson turned his back on the submissive and lead him back through the crowd, not to where
he’d been sitting by the bar, but to the private booth that he’d taken to using as a makeshift office
during club hours.
Holding the door open, he stood back and let Aaron walk in first, knowing there was no way the
submissive would be able to close the door behind them while his hands were bound as they were.
Damn, but he looked as good in bondage as Patterson had always thought he would.
It wasn’t a completely private location, and it wasn’t exactly silent either. The noise of the club
seeped through the rich wooden panelling, but as they faced each other , the rest of the world
became increasingly irrelevant.
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Patterson ran his eyes over the submissive, from the close cropped hair, along lines of heavy,
well-defined muscle, past the bondage and all the way down to his bare feet. For a completely
stunning man, he seemed incredibly nervous about showing off his fantastic build.
Patterson finally took pity on the boy and nodded toward the bench on the left hand side of the
table. “Sit down, Aaron.”
The submissive did as he was told. Even while sitting down, he seemed to be consciously trying
to make himself appear smaller and take up as little room as possible. Or maybe he just wanted to
hide as much of himself as he could behind the dark oak table.
Patterson lowered himself into the seat opposite him. “You’ve never struck me as the kind of
man who likes being the centre of attention.”
Aaron met his eyes for a moment.
“I’m guessing Ben talked you into taking part?”
Aaron nodded.
Patterson considered his next move very carefully. He’d always known there was a bloody
fantastic body hidden behind the thick coat Aaron wore when he worked on the door but having it
displayed for his appreciation was something very different, and more than a little distracting.
“What was the final bid in the auction?” Aaron asked, suddenly.
“Does it matter?” Patterson asked.
Aaron cleared his throat. He seemed to have difficulty forcing the words out. “I probably can’t
pay you back straight away, but, maybe I could do it a bit at a time. You could dock my wages or
something?”
Patterson raised an eyebrow at him.
“It’s not that I’m ungrateful that you stepped in and rescued me, sir, but it shouldn’t put you out
of pocket and…” Aaron’s words trailed off as their eyes met.
He was right, of course. It was rescuing Aaron that had been uppermost in his mind when he
offered his first bid. Save him from having every scrap of skin whipped off his back, and send him
on his way without actually making him go through with the rest of the bloody stupid auction game.
That had been the plan
But, as the heat rushed to Aaron’s cheeks, there was no way in hell Patterson could bring the
appropriate words to his lips. “You agreed to play the game,” he reminded the younger man instead.
Aaron squirmed slight in his seat.
“You offered the bidders four hours of your submission,” Patterson reminded him.
“Maybe—”
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“There are no maybes,” Patterson cut in, briskly. “You don’t owe me any money, Aaron. You owe
me four hours.”
“I…” Aaron turned his head and looked everywhere but at Patterson.
Running his eyes over those parts of Aaron’s body that were visible past the table, Patterson
could think of so many wonderful things to do with those four hours. “State your limits.”
The submissive blinked at him, as if he had no idea what he was talking about. “I…what the guys
out there said—I can take a whipping. I don’t mind.”
“I asked what you won’t do,” Patterson reminded him. “Not what you will do.”
Aaron stared at him, looking more helpless than any man his size should rightly be able to.
“Do you have a master? A dominant you’re answerable to?” Patterson asked.
Aaron shook his head.
“A boyfriend, a lover?” Patterson pushed, hoping like hell he was right in thinking he already
knew the answer to that question too.
Aaron’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed rapidly. He shook his head once more.
Patterson smiled. “In that case, I’m still waiting to hear your limits,” he reminded the younger
man.
Aaron opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out.
Patterson’s eyes narrowed. “Have you ever negotiated a scene with a dominant?”
“Like I said, I can pay you back—” Aaron fell silent as Patterson lifted a hand.
“You’ll be given a safe word at the start of the scene. We’ll play it by ear.”
The submissive simply stared at him, as if he’d lost his mind.
“You’re scheduled to be working on the door next Friday—Christmas Eve through to the early
hours of Christmas Day, correct?”
Aaron nodded.
“Change of plans. You can start your shift as usual, but you’ll belong to me for four hours, starting
at ten o’clock.”
“I…” That was all he managed to say.
Patterson smiled slightly, the instinct to want to rescue Aaron wasn’t exactly new, but now it
was stronger than ever. He couldn’t even allow him to struggle for the appropriate answer. “I think
you’ll find the appropriate answer is ‘yes, sir’.”
“Yes, sir,” Aaron echoed, with perfect and apparently completely instinctive obedience.
Patterson nodded his approval. Christmas couldn’t come quick enough.
*****
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“He’s probably changed his mind by now,” Aaron said. He kicked his feet against the pavement
outside the club as he glanced to where his friend was sitting on the wall to the left of the door
during his break. “He’s probably forgotten about it all.”
“Patterson’s not the forgetful sort, and he’s not the indecisive sort either,” Ben swung his legs
back and forth, tapping out a rhythm on the brick work as he hummed a carol under his breath. “If
your slave hours go half as well as mine went, you’re going to be grinning all the way into the New
Year.”
Aaron looked both ways along the snow covered street, as if some sort of escape route might
open up for him at any moment. He’d never had any doubt that Ben’s time with the dom who
offered his winning bid would be bloody fantastic. Any dominant would love to have Ben under his
control and—
“Patterson sent me to watch the door.”
Aaron looked over his shoulder. One of the other bouncers stood directly behind him, ready to
take his place. Aaron really wished the guy could take his place in the scene with Patterson instead.
“He said you’re to report to playroom seven straight away,” the other bouncer went on.
“Told you he wouldn’t forget,” Ben chipped in.
Aaron glared over his shoulder at him, but, as much as part of him wished he had time to throttle
his friend for getting him into this mess in the first place, it wouldn’t do to keep Patterson waiting.
Aaron quickly made his way through the club.
Room seven…
For all the time he’d spent on the door and in the public areas of the club, the playrooms were far
less familiar territory for Aaron. He desperately tried to remember which set up was in which room.
Room seven…
Was that the one with the sling or the cage? He couldn’t remember.
He was still none the wiser when he found himself standing outside the door with a big iron
seven bolted onto the woodwork. His mind might have been spiralling out of control in a dozen
different directions, but his body was running on automatic pilot and didn’t wait for any orders to
be issued by his brain before lifting his hand and knocking politely on the door.
“Enter.”
Aaron’s body still didn’t wait for his mind to catch up. He turned the handle and pushed open the
door.
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Patterson stood on the far side of the room. Aaron had never actually seen the dominant wearing
anything that wasn’t leather, but as Aaron laid eyes on the other man he became acutely aware that,
for the first time, he was looking at Patterson in his play clothes rather than his work clothes.
The leather the dominant usually wore was functional, practical and good quality, but Aaron
stalled in the doorway as he ran his eyes over what Patterson was wearing right then. The leather
trousers moulded themselves to the dominant’s body like a second skin. It wasn’t the kind of
leather a man wore when he was going to be doing paperwork in the back room or play referee to a
bunch of bratty doms who couldn’t remember the rules of his club.
It looked far more like what a man wore when he was actually interested in the man he was
planning to do a scene with. It was what a man wore when he was planning to whip a man into a
frenzy of endorphins, screw the hell out of him, make him beg for anything and everything in the
world, and generally give a submissive the best night of his life.
“Close the door, Aaron.”
Aaron closed the door. The dominant still had his back to him, his skin was bare from his waist
to where his hair covered the back of his neck—thick black strands that Aaron had longed to touch
since the first moment he set eyes on the other man, three months ago, when he’d interviewed him
for the security door-man’s job.
Unsure what he should do, Aaron shuffled his feet and remained just inside the door, waiting for
an order. Finally, Patterson turned away from the rack of toys on the other side of the room that he
was so interested in, and looked in Aaron’s direction.
As he leaned back against the edge of the bondage bench next to the toy rack, the overhead lights
illuminated every lean line of muscle in the older man’s body. They even picked out a few touches of
gray at the dominant’s temples.
“Your safe word is red.”
Aaron nodded.
“Unless you’re wearing a gag or sucking me off, I expect verbal responses.”
“Yes, sir,” Aaron managed to say. It wasn’t in him to keep his eyes on the other man’s face then.
His attention dropped straight to Patterson’s cock. He could see the outline of the dominant’s shaft
through the leather.
“Aaron.”
The submissive dragged his eyes up.
“Focus.”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered again.
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“You’re going to belong to me for the next four hours. If you don’t say your safe word, I’ll do
whatever I want with you. You understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Patterson didn’t look as if he believed him.
Suddenly well aware that he was making a complete idiot out of himself, Aaron did his best to
pull himself together. “I understand the way scenes work, sir.”
Patterson appeared neither relieved nor impressed by his reassurance. Straightening up, he
stepped away from the bondage bench. “Come here.”
Aaron slowly made his way forward.
“Give me your clothes. You’ll get them back when I’m finished with you.”
“Yes, sir.” Automatically undoing his coat Aaron shrugged it off his shoulders and handed it to
the dominant.
Setting the garment to one side, Patterson quickly turned his attention back to Aaron and
watched him strip the rest of his clothes away.
Wasting time wasn’t going to make him look any more like the kind of submissive men that
Patterson liked to own. He wouldn’t turn into someone like Ben when the clock struck midnight. He
had far more chance of turning into a bloody pumpkin.
Scrambling out of his clothes, Aaron handed every item over to Patterson, until he stood
completely naked in front of the leather clad dominant. He’d never thought he’d miss that ridiculous
leather thong and the belt with those cuffs locked to it that he’d worn at the slave auction. But, at
least when he’d been bound by those cuffs, he’d known what to do with his hands.
As Patterson slowly walked around him, Aaron clenched and unclenched his fists, but he had no
idea how to stand, how to hold himself as he was assessed. The dominant was behind him, out of his
line of sight, when Aaron felt fingers brush against his forearm. He jumped, but Patterson’s hand
didn’t release the hold it had taken around his wrist.
The dominant said nothing as he guided Aaron’s hand up to the back of his head. Another second
passed and saw Patterson guiding Aaron’s other hand to join the first on his head and link his
fingers neatly together.
A gentle tap of one leather booted foot to the inside of Aaron’s ankle was enough to convince him
to shuffle his feet shoulder width apart. Aaron closed his eyes. While it was nice to know exactly
how the older man wanted him to stand, being presented like that for his inspection, unable to hide
his reaction to it, soon had the heat rushing to his cheeks. His cock had been hard from the start, but
now it was curving back toward his stomach.
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“How often do you work out?”
Aaron blinked his eyes open. Patterson was standing directly in front of him.
The submissive tried to answer and failed. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Most days, sir.”
Reaching out to him, Patterson ran his fingers along the muscles in Aaron’s right arm. He didn’t
seem particularly impressed, he didn’t seem particularly anything. It was almost as if he didn’t see
anything the least bit strange in the man he was dominating carrying so much more muscle than
him.
The older man’s touch moved to Aaron’s chest. His hand stroked its way across his pecs until his
fingertips found a nipple. He caught the little nub of nerve endings between the digits and squeezed,
hard.
Aaron whole body jerked. A shocked little noise escaped from the back of his throat. Patterson
smiled and calmly went back to caressing his muscles. There was nothing delicate about the
dominant’s touch. It was light, but in a way that only seemed to emphasise that he was choosing to
keep it that way rather than incapable of making it harsher should the mood strike him.
“Does it help?”
“Sir?” Aaron managed. The older man’s hand was making its way down his abs and it was
impossible for him not to feel that the other man had any destination in mind other than his cock.
“All these layers of muscle you’ve worked so hard to achieve. Do they help you feel safer in your
own skin?”
Aaron just blinked at him.
“You’re obviously not a vain man, Aaron. And I’d be very surprised to find that you’re
competitive enough to enjoy out bench-pressing every man you meet.”
All Aaron could do was stare back at the dominant as Patterson held his gaze.
“The only reason a man like you gains all these muscles is to hide behind them. Does being
strong actually help you feel safe?”
Aaron shook his head. “No, sir.”
“No,” Patterson murmured. “I didn’t think it would.”
“I…”
“A submissive only ever truly feels safe when he’s wrapped up in someone else’s strength,”
Patterson said, perfectly calmly, as if they weren’t talking about anything more life changing than
the weather.
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Lifting his hand from where it had lingered on Aaron’s stomach, he stroked his knuckles down
his cheek. “You have no idea just how much you need a good master to look after you, do you,
Aaron?”
Swallowing rapidly, Aaron didn’t even attempt to find any words to make a reply. All he could do
was hold the dominant’s gaze, and pray that Patterson could see whatever he needed to know
reflected in his eyes.
Even though he was much narrower across the shoulders than Aaron, Patterson was also well
over six feet tall, only an inch or so shorter than him, that should have made it easy to look him in
the eye, but it didn’t.
The older man smiled slightly. He nodded as if he understood everything in the whole world and,
right then, Aaron had no doubt Patterson really was as omnipotent as he looked.
“Kneel.”
Submissives like Ben could lower themselves to their knees with so much easy grace that it
barely seemed like there were joints operating behind the movement. Aaron had seen them do it a
million times. But, as Aaron slowly descended, first to one knee and then the other, he’d never felt
more clumsy in his life. His limbs were too long, there was far too much of him and—
Patterson’s knuckle came to rest under his chin and the dominant tilted Aaron’s head back until
he had little choice but to look up at the older man and meet his gaze.
And, suddenly it didn’t matter how tall he was. Down on his knees, he’d never felt smaller before
another man, and he’d never loved that rare, perfect feeling as much as he did right then either.
The dominant ran his hand over Aaron’s head. His hair was too short for anyone to grab hold of,
but the older man didn’t seem to mind too much. Aaron cautiously moved his own hands down the
back of his head, to make more of his scalp available to the other man’s touch.
“How many times have you imagined yourself kneeling for me since you started working here?”
Aaron didn’t have words to answer him. He didn’t have a single syllable in his head.
The dominant chuckled. “Never mind. It’s probably no more often than I’ve pictured you like
this.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Aaron, but that didn’t stop the submissive
relishing the older man’s words.
“You really…?” Aaron whispered.
Patterson stroked his fingers casually across Aaron’s face until they brushed across his lips.
“Imagined you sucking my cock?” he finished for him.
Aaron parted his lips, but no words emerged.
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Patterson didn’t complain about his silence. He simply slipped two of his fingers into Aaron’s
mouth and made them quickly at home there, easily encouraging Aaron to lick the digits and suck
around them.
“Imagined you meant something more than common leather-clad courtesy every time you called
me sir?” Patterson went on.
There was no way he could answer unless the dominant chose to remove his fingers. He was
effectively gagged and had never been more grateful for permission to stay silent.
“Imagined you bound to a rack, completely helpless and unable to come while I teased you for
hours on end? Tied to an Andrews while I whipped you again and again, so gently you’d beg for a
real kiss from the whip?” The dominant slid his fingers deeper into Aaron’s mouth, making him
murmur with pleasure. “There are lots of things I’ve imagined doing with you.”
Patterson took his fingers out of his mouth then. Aaron licked his lips, suddenly desperate to feel
the other man’s cock slide between his lips and fill the emptiness left behind after his digits
retreated. “Please?” The word escaped before he could stop it.
Patterson stroked his thumb down Aaron’s chin, gently parting his lips once more. His touch was
so gentle, as if the man somehow thought he was the most delicate, fragile thing he’d ever laid
hands on in his life, yet there was no humour in his eyes, he didn’t look like he was laughing at
Aaron’s expense.
Frowning up at him, Aaron desperately tried to work the older man out.
“You may consider your debt to the slave auction paid.”
Aaron pulled away as Patterson’s words hit the air. He quickly removed his hands from the back
of his head, all his worse fears confirmed in one swift blow.
It was his own fault for falling for an unattainable fantasy, he told himself. Why the hell would a
dominant like Patterson by interested in someone like him anyway?
*
“But that doesn’t mean I want you to leave,” Patterson added. He watched the submissive very
carefully. For all he was a big strong guy, Patterson couldn’t help but think he was also the most
fragile submissive he’d ever set eyes on. That, far more than the gorgeous muscles, drew him closer
to the other man.
Crouching down in front of the muscle bound sub, Patterson brought them back to an equal
height. “Game players may like the idea of ordering a man around all night and knowing he’ll do
whatever they say just because they’ve paid for the pleasure,” he said. “But I’m not a game player.”
Aaron held his gaze, but he didn’t say a single word in response.
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“This isn’t a game to me,” Patterson waved a hand toward the toys that surrounded them.
“Neither are you.”
Aaron’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he still didn’t speak.
“What I want to do, is to take you upstairs, out of the club and into my flat and for you to obey
me. Not because you want to help a good cause. Not because Ben talked you into something. I want
you to put yourself in my hands for no other reason than that’s exactly where you want to be.”
The submissive’s lips slowly parted. “Yes, sir.”
Patterson was well aware that there were times when ‘yes, sir’ was nothing more nor less than
the punctuation that filled the gaps in conversations between a dominant and a submissive. It
wasn’t really agreement or acceptance, it was merely something a submissive could say to indicate
that he had heard and understood what had been said just before.
Right then, as he and Aaron faced each other in the centre of the playroom, Patterson had never
been more certain that this wasn’t one of those times. Aaron’s eyes screamed acceptance, and
desire, and submission, and a million other things that swirled around those emotions.
Patterson stood up. Aaron remained exactly where he was.
Keeping his movement slow and calm, unwilling to spook the boy when everything still balanced
on the sharpest of knife edges, Patterson selected a length of leather and chain from the rack of
toys.
It only took him a few seconds to have a loop of silver links around Aaron’s neck and the leather
handle of the lead secured around his own wrist. Of course, it wasn’t a collar as such. There would
be time enough for something like that in the future, but it would hardly be appropriate then, not
between men who weren’t playing games.
Still, Patterson smiled slightly as he saw something inside Aaron relax as the physical connection
between them let him know that he was safe and controlled, owned by another man for the first
time.
“Hands behind your back.”
Aaron obeyed.
“On your feet.”
A touch of uncertainty came into the submissive's eyes as he brought himself to his full, and
admittedly rather impressive, height. It was almost as if being on his knees had allowed him to feel
small, to feel submissive-sized for a little while.
Patterson gave a mental chuckle as his gaze automatically honed in on Aaron’s lips. It would
hardly be a hardship to keep a man with a mouth like that on his knees a great deal of the time.
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A very gentle tug on the lead negated any need for a verbal command as Patterson turned
around. Aaron followed him across to the door in the furthest corner of the room without ever
letting the lead grow taut between them.
The inconspicuous exit led straight up to the fire exit for his private flat above the club. Aaron
made no comment on that as he trailed along behind him. He offered no complaint about the cold
that lingered in the little used stairwell. But, when Patterson finally led him into the small living
room set off the landing and turned to face Aaron, he had no doubt that all of the submissive's
insecurities had come flooding back.
Having already discovered one thing that made the submissive feel more at ease in his own skin,
it would have been stupid not to make use of it. “On your knees.”
Aaron didn’t hesitate to follow the command and the simple fact he now had to look up to meet
Patterson’s eyes soon seemed to help him calm down.
Stepping past him, Patterson kept hold of the lead as he moved to sit in one of the comfortable
old arm chairs that flanked the flat’s only fireplace. Keeping his pace slow, he made it easy for Aaron
to follow him while still on his knees. A gentle tug called the boy forward to position himself
between Patterson’s legs.
He didn’t need any further encouragement. Aaron shuffled forward. He even gained the courage
to lean in and press a kiss against Patterson’s leather covered erection without needing a direct
order.
Gazing down at him with complete approval, Patterson settled his free hand on the younger
man’s head and merely accepted the licks and kisses he pressed against him as if they were his due.
There was no need for praise or to make a fuss over the other man. Acceptance was all the
submissive really needed from him right then, and Patterson let the silent offering last several
minutes before he slipped his hand between them and undid the specially lengthened fly in his
leather trousers, giving Aaron access to his whole crotch.
Once more settling his hand on the back of the other man’s head, Patterson guided Aaron to lean
forward and take his cock between his lips for the first time. There was no need to apply even the
slightest force. The lightest guidance was more than enough.
Even so, as he settled both his hands on the larger man’s head, Patterson let Aaron feel a more
dominant man directing his movements, holding him steady when he wanted him to focus on
lapping at the tip and swirling his tongue around the sensitive glans, then leading him forward
when he wanted more of the hard shaft to be cocooned in the wet heat of his mouth.
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The boy had an undeniable talent for fellatio. More than that, he had blatant enthusiasm for it
too. Patterson smiled down at the submissive as pleasure rushed through him, almost as much of it
coming from his mind as his cock as he gloried in the submission being offered to him. Aaron
murmured his own enjoyment, sending another wave of bliss through the dominant.
The slow, almost worshipful attentions soon had Patterson on the edge. From the look in Aaron’s
eyes as he glanced up at him, the untouched submissive wasn’t far behind him. Patterson tightened
his hold on the younger man’s head, holding him in place as he rocked his hips and thrust his cock
deep into Aaron’s willing mouth.
The submissive took it easily, sucking and swallowing around him, as if trying to beg the orgasm
out of him by any means possible. Aaron hadn’t forgotten his dominant’s earlier order. His hands
were still behind him and Patterson sensed the other man rest in his control as he pulled Aaron off
balance. The submissive didn’t even try to reach out and steady himself.
The trust, the purity of his submission, mixed with the raw desire he saw in Aaron’s eyes and
rushed down Patterson’s spine. As it collided with the heat and friction surrounding his cock,
Patterson tossed his head back.
Yelling out his pleasure, he held Aaron’s head still, filling his mouth with cum as his orgasm tore
through him. Ecstasy seemed to reach out into every part of his body, until he felt it in every fibre of
his body, even after he fell still and collapsed back against the armchair.
Blinking his eyes open, Patterson looked down at the submissive. Aaron’s head was still bowed
over his lap, his lips wrapped delicately around the softening shaft.
Ruffling the younger man’s hair as much as the short strands would allow, Patterson took away
his hands and allowed him to lift his head, but Aaron didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush. A glance
down at the floor by his feet confirmed to Patterson’s satisfaction that it wasn’t because he’d
actually already come from the sheer bliss of pleasing a dominant.
Aaron was still hard and frustrated, but there was no way anyone could doubt that all his
attention was still on his lover. His focus remained on Patterson as the dominant straightened his
clothes and tucked himself neatly away. Even after that, Aaron showed no inclination to rise from
his place at his feet.
“You’re allowed to stand,” Patterson told him, as a less than acceptable thought occurred to him.
Kneeling was all well and good, but it wouldn’t do to let the boy think he’d only belong to him when
he was cut off at the knees.
Aaron frowned slightly as he received the permission, confirming all of the dominant’s
suspicions.
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Patterson continued to stare at him until the submissive got the hint and rose reluctantly to his
feet. Aaron didn’t seem to know what to do with himself then. For the first time, he took a step back
from Patterson.
“I have no need to make myself feel like a big man by forcing a submissive to feel small,”
Patterson informed him. There weren’t going to be any misunderstandings between them on that
score.
*
“But, you do, sir.” It took all of Aaron’s strength to force the words out.
Patterson raised an eyebrow at him.
“You do make me feel small…” Aaron whispered. He turned away from the dominant then,
unable to hold his gaze a second longer. Stepping toward the window set into the bay overlooking
the garden behind the club, he stared out through the glass into the night sky. “…in a good way.”
He sensed the older man move, even though he never heard him make a sound, but he still
jumped when Patterson’s arms came around him. The dominant’s hands caressed their way across
his chest, with complete confidence in his right to touch him in any way he wanted.
A second later, Patterson’s legs pressed against the back of Aaron’s knees and pushed forward.
The joints immediately gave way. Aaron’s knees landed heavily on the padded bench beneath the
bay window.
The dominant tugged Aaron roughly back to lean against him. His head barely came up to the
older man’s shoulder when they were arranged that way.
“Like this?” Patterson asked.
Small in a good way… Aaron nodded, cautiously leaning into Patterson’s touch and turning his
head so his cheek rubbed against the older man’s chest. Yes, that was exactly how it felt.
“That’s not about feeling small,” Patterson whispered to him. “It’s about realising your just the
right size.”
Aaron nodded again, relishing the way the dominant’s skin brushed against his cheek, even as he
blushed at the idea of any man ever considering anything about him perfect, let alone a dominant
like Patterson ever saying so out loud.
“I don’t see what would be so hot about a lover who has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss me,” the
dominant informed him. His tone was serious, but Aaron could practically hear the smile in the
other man’s voice too. “It’s getting late.”
Aaron stopped smiling, but Patterson laughed when he seemed to notice that.
“Do you really think I’d send you to anyone’s bed but mine, Aaron?”
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He looked up at the dominant as Patterson took hold of the handle of the lead still hanging
around Aaron’s neck. Stepping back, Patterson gave a gentle tug on it and ordered him to his feet.
Within seconds, the older man had led him back into what could only be his own bedroom.
Once again unsure what to do with himself, Aaron stayed near the door when Patterson let go of
his lead. Habit made him do his best to be as small and as inconspicuous as possible but as he
looked around the room, the submissive’s gaze fell on an envelope that stole all his attention.
Aaron.
He frowned at his name for several seconds before he could bring the appropriate query to his
lips. “Sir?”
Patterson glanced across at him, then followed his gaze to the envelope. “Ben asked me to keep it
for you and give it to you on Christmas morning.” The dominant glanced at his watch. “It’s after
midnight. If you want to open it, you can.”
Stepping further into the room, Aaron did as the dominant suggested.
Ben’s messy handwriting scrawled across the page in bright purple ink.
Sorry I couldn’t wrap him for you, darling. I’d have loved to tie a big pretty bow around his neck,
but dominants are such a bugger to pack! Still, I really hope you’re enjoying your Christmas present,
sugar. It’s about bloody time you two got it together and since there was no way in hell he’d let any
other dom win you in that auction, it was far too good an opportunity to miss.
Merry Christmas, darling!
Ben.
“He’s right.”
Aaron spun around.
Patterson didn’t look as if he felt the least bit guilty for reading over his shoulder. He held his
gaze and smiled as if he knew he had the right to do whatever he wanted with him. “I might have
been willing to bide my time and wait for you to find your feet in the club while you weren’t even
flirting with another dom, but there’s no way in hell I’d have ever let another man lay a hand on
you, let alone place the winning bid on you in that idiotic auction.”
“Ben’s…” Aaron tried to explain, as he folded up the note paper and pushed it back into the
envelope.
“A complete brat? A reasonable bartender on those rare occasions he manages to keep his mind
on his job? An incorrigible flirt? A good friend to you?”
“All of the above, sir?” Aaron hesitated.
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Seeming to lose interest in the conversation then, Patterson took the letter from his fingers and
set it down on the cabinet. Slipping his hand into Aaron’s, the dominant walked backward toward
the bed.
As his feet automatically carried him forward, Aaron stared at the other man’s hand wrapped
around his, as if it were the most miraculous thing he’d ever seen.
“Just this once, I’m going to give you permission to obey another man’s orders,” Patterson
suddenly announced.
that night.
Ben turned around and smiled up at him. If Aaron hadn’t known the club’s regular bartender
better, he might have believed the sweet, innocent little look in the smaller man’s eyes. As it was,
Aaron merely turned his attention heavenward and wished like hell he wasn’t such a soft touch
when someone approached him for a favour.
“It’s for charity,” Ben reminded him, absentmindedly, already turning away.
The fact that his humiliation was going to raise money for a good cause failed to make Aaron feel
the least bit better about the world. It also failed to make the minuscule thong that Ben had cajoled
him into, any bigger. Aaron shuffled his bare feet against the bare floorboards as he glanced along
the increasingly short line of men between him and the gap in the curtains leading to the back of the
makeshift stage.
“How big a donation would I need to make, right now, if I wanted to get out of this?” Aaron
asked. He was pretty sure he’d happily bankrupt himself to be able to run away and scramble back
into the clothes he usually wore when he worked on the door of the club.
“It’ll be fine,” Ben soothed vaguely, patting Aaron’s arm as he stood on tiptoe in an effort to get a
better view.
Aaron was tall enough to have a perfectly good line of sight without moving a muscle. Another
man had disappeared from the queue between him and the worse moment of his life.
“Ben—” he began again.
An extremely muscular
man stands with his back
to the camera. He is naked
except for a thick leather
belt around his waist
chained to a matching set
of cuffs around his wrists.
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“It’s Christmas,” Ben cut in. He actually fluttered his eyelashes up at him as he said it. “It’s
traditional to give to charity, to help those who are less fortunate than yourself, and stuff.”
“Yeah, well, there must be other ways to—”
A cheer went up on the other side of the curtain. Aaron’s mouth went dry. He promptly forgot
how to speak.
Behind his back, Aaron’s hands tightened into fists and tugged at the cuffs Ben had somehow
managed to convince him would be the perfect addition to his damn near non-existent outfit.
All Aaron’s squirming succeeded in doing, was to pull at the thick leather belt around his waist.
Dropping his gaze to the floor in front of him, he tried to take a deep breath to settle his nerves, but
his eyes went straight to that silly little thong.
“Ben—”
“Ben Chambers!” someone called from the stage.
With one last grin over his shoulder, Ben disappeared through the gap in the curtains. Aaron
watched, growing paler by the second, as Ben’s light footsteps carried him forward to stand next to
the auctioneer for the evening.
The crowd whooped with delight at the sight of him. Aaron couldn’t bring himself to be
surprised. He was pretty sure Ben was exactly what every dominant fantasised about every time he
took his cock in hand.
Big blue eyes, floppy blond hair and a cute little arse—when a perfect smile and grade-A flirting
talent was thrown into the mix, it was only natural that he should be one of the most popular men
in the club.
Ben bowed to his delighted audience. The leather harness and cuffs he was wearing only made
his skin look paler and the light lines of muscle that graced his limbs more elegant.
Someone shouted something from the crowd. Ben cheerfully changed his bow to a low, theatrical
curtsey and pretended to fan himself as he smiled coyly over the top of the imaginary prop.
Watching his performance through the gap in the curtains, Aaron did his best not to
hyperventilate. It wasn’t as easy as it should have been. By the time Ben practically leapt off the
stage into the arms of his winning bidder, Aaron’s lungs had completely given up on their assigned
task. His head was spinning from lack of oxygen.
There was no way in hell he was going out there. Aaron shook his head at the very possibility.
“Aaron Clark!”
Someone behind Aaron elbowed him in the back, as if they thought there really was some
possibility he hadn’t heard his name being called. “You’re up!”
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Actually, he wasn’t. Walking onto the stage sporting a flourishing erection was one of the few
problems he didn’t have. His feet remained rooted to the spot.
“Aaron Clark?” the auctioneer called again.
The elbow-er standing behind Aaron gave him a push toward the gap in the curtains. He
stumbled forward. His shoulders brushed against the rich red velvet. The spotlight blinded him. He
tried to lift his hands to shield his eyes, but the cuffs stopped him short. Instinct led him to the
auctioneer’s side, but even after his eyes adjusted to the stage lighting, he found it impossible to
make out any detail of the dominants in the crowd past it.
That was something to be grateful for. Next time he worked on the door, he wouldn’t have to
know which doms he allowed into the club had seen him up there making a complete pillock out of
himself. And he couldn’t tell if Mr. Patterson, the owner of the club, was out there either.
From somewhere far, far away, Aaron heard the auctioneer read out his stats, but his mind easily
converted the numbers into the reality they represented.
Height—A damn sight taller than the vast majority of the doms there.
Weight—Too much. And the fact it was all muscle didn’t magically make him light enough to sit
on a master’s knee the way Ben was so fond of doing.
Age—Did it really matter? It wasn’t as if anyone would still be listening at that point.
“He’s bloody huge!”
Only one man in the crowd shouted it, but Aaron knew that most of the others would be thinking
the same thing. A moment later another cat-call emerged from the crowd, ready to prove all of
Aaron’s fears true. Swallowing rapidly, he tried like hell not to blush and completely failed.
Keeping his gaze lowered, all he could do was stand very still and pray for it to be over.
“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be nice to lay a whip to someone who won’t break at the first blow!”
someone shouted.
“Built like an ox—and I’ve got a new bull whip to test out,” someone else said.
It took Aaron more than a few seconds to realise the tone of the comments had changed. The
serious dominants might have lost interest when they saw the size of him, but Aaron had allowed
hardcore sadists into the club often enough to be able to recognise most of their voices.
Belonging to any of them for four hours might hurt like hell, but right then, Aaron was willing to
take that over the abject humiliation of not receiving a single bid.
To Aaron’s side, the auctioneer opened the bidding. The values weren’t as high as those being
offered up for Ben’s time, but there were numbers—and they were going up rather than down.
*
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(Story continues in next message)
“They’ll skin the poor sod…”
Luke Patterson heard the man sitting next to him at the bar say the words, but he’d be damned if
he was just going to sit back and watch his neighbour's prediction come true. Catching the
auctioneer’s eye, Patterson nodded once and raised the bidding a little further.
Keeping his bids subtle enough that he didn’t attract any extra interest in paying for Aaron’s
time, Patterson quietly raised the stakes until each and every sadist who’d considered using the
bouncer as his new whipping boy fell by the wayside.
It was only when the gavel fell, that Patterson turned his gaze away from the auctioneer and
back to Aaron. The submissive stood near the edge of the stage, peering out into the crowd, but he
obviously had no idea who’d won the bidding war on him. Neither did any of the other doms—not
until Patterson left his barstool and made his way up to the edge of the stage to collect his prize.
A few whispers started up as he reached the bottom of the little flight of stairs that led up to
Aaron. Patterson had a fair idea what they would be saying. He might have been happy for the
auction to take place in his club and raise money for the worthy cause of the year, but he has never
gone so far as to support it by actually placing a bid on any of the ‘slaves’ who put themselves under
the hammer.
The bouncer blinked down at him, as if he still didn’t understand what was going on.
“Come along,” Patterson said, with a jerk of his head. His tone of voice seemed to break through
whatever was holding Aaron frozen in place.
The boy took a step forward, then another, until he’d come down the steps and stood at
Patterson’s side.
“Follow me.”
Patterson turned his back on the submissive and lead him back through the crowd, not to where
he’d been sitting by the bar, but to the private booth that he’d taken to using as a makeshift office
during club hours.
Holding the door open, he stood back and let Aaron walk in first, knowing there was no way the
submissive would be able to close the door behind them while his hands were bound as they were.
Damn, but he looked as good in bondage as Patterson had always thought he would.
It wasn’t a completely private location, and it wasn’t exactly silent either. The noise of the club
seeped through the rich wooden panelling, but as they faced each other , the rest of the world
became increasingly irrelevant.
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Patterson ran his eyes over the submissive, from the close cropped hair, along lines of heavy,
well-defined muscle, past the bondage and all the way down to his bare feet. For a completely
stunning man, he seemed incredibly nervous about showing off his fantastic build.
Patterson finally took pity on the boy and nodded toward the bench on the left hand side of the
table. “Sit down, Aaron.”
The submissive did as he was told. Even while sitting down, he seemed to be consciously trying
to make himself appear smaller and take up as little room as possible. Or maybe he just wanted to
hide as much of himself as he could behind the dark oak table.
Patterson lowered himself into the seat opposite him. “You’ve never struck me as the kind of
man who likes being the centre of attention.”
Aaron met his eyes for a moment.
“I’m guessing Ben talked you into taking part?”
Aaron nodded.
Patterson considered his next move very carefully. He’d always known there was a bloody
fantastic body hidden behind the thick coat Aaron wore when he worked on the door but having it
displayed for his appreciation was something very different, and more than a little distracting.
“What was the final bid in the auction?” Aaron asked, suddenly.
“Does it matter?” Patterson asked.
Aaron cleared his throat. He seemed to have difficulty forcing the words out. “I probably can’t
pay you back straight away, but, maybe I could do it a bit at a time. You could dock my wages or
something?”
Patterson raised an eyebrow at him.
“It’s not that I’m ungrateful that you stepped in and rescued me, sir, but it shouldn’t put you out
of pocket and…” Aaron’s words trailed off as their eyes met.
He was right, of course. It was rescuing Aaron that had been uppermost in his mind when he
offered his first bid. Save him from having every scrap of skin whipped off his back, and send him
on his way without actually making him go through with the rest of the bloody stupid auction game.
That had been the plan
But, as the heat rushed to Aaron’s cheeks, there was no way in hell Patterson could bring the
appropriate words to his lips. “You agreed to play the game,” he reminded the younger man instead.
Aaron squirmed slight in his seat.
“You offered the bidders four hours of your submission,” Patterson reminded him.
“Maybe—”
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“There are no maybes,” Patterson cut in, briskly. “You don’t owe me any money, Aaron. You owe
me four hours.”
“I…” Aaron turned his head and looked everywhere but at Patterson.
Running his eyes over those parts of Aaron’s body that were visible past the table, Patterson
could think of so many wonderful things to do with those four hours. “State your limits.”
The submissive blinked at him, as if he had no idea what he was talking about. “I…what the guys
out there said—I can take a whipping. I don’t mind.”
“I asked what you won’t do,” Patterson reminded him. “Not what you will do.”
Aaron stared at him, looking more helpless than any man his size should rightly be able to.
“Do you have a master? A dominant you’re answerable to?” Patterson asked.
Aaron shook his head.
“A boyfriend, a lover?” Patterson pushed, hoping like hell he was right in thinking he already
knew the answer to that question too.
Aaron’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed rapidly. He shook his head once more.
Patterson smiled. “In that case, I’m still waiting to hear your limits,” he reminded the younger
man.
Aaron opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out.
Patterson’s eyes narrowed. “Have you ever negotiated a scene with a dominant?”
“Like I said, I can pay you back—” Aaron fell silent as Patterson lifted a hand.
“You’ll be given a safe word at the start of the scene. We’ll play it by ear.”
The submissive simply stared at him, as if he’d lost his mind.
“You’re scheduled to be working on the door next Friday—Christmas Eve through to the early
hours of Christmas Day, correct?”
Aaron nodded.
“Change of plans. You can start your shift as usual, but you’ll belong to me for four hours, starting
at ten o’clock.”
“I…” That was all he managed to say.
Patterson smiled slightly, the instinct to want to rescue Aaron wasn’t exactly new, but now it
was stronger than ever. He couldn’t even allow him to struggle for the appropriate answer. “I think
you’ll find the appropriate answer is ‘yes, sir’.”
“Yes, sir,” Aaron echoed, with perfect and apparently completely instinctive obedience.
Patterson nodded his approval. Christmas couldn’t come quick enough.
*****
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“He’s probably changed his mind by now,” Aaron said. He kicked his feet against the pavement
outside the club as he glanced to where his friend was sitting on the wall to the left of the door
during his break. “He’s probably forgotten about it all.”
“Patterson’s not the forgetful sort, and he’s not the indecisive sort either,” Ben swung his legs
back and forth, tapping out a rhythm on the brick work as he hummed a carol under his breath. “If
your slave hours go half as well as mine went, you’re going to be grinning all the way into the New
Year.”
Aaron looked both ways along the snow covered street, as if some sort of escape route might
open up for him at any moment. He’d never had any doubt that Ben’s time with the dom who
offered his winning bid would be bloody fantastic. Any dominant would love to have Ben under his
control and—
“Patterson sent me to watch the door.”
Aaron looked over his shoulder. One of the other bouncers stood directly behind him, ready to
take his place. Aaron really wished the guy could take his place in the scene with Patterson instead.
“He said you’re to report to playroom seven straight away,” the other bouncer went on.
“Told you he wouldn’t forget,” Ben chipped in.
Aaron glared over his shoulder at him, but, as much as part of him wished he had time to throttle
his friend for getting him into this mess in the first place, it wouldn’t do to keep Patterson waiting.
Aaron quickly made his way through the club.
Room seven…
For all the time he’d spent on the door and in the public areas of the club, the playrooms were far
less familiar territory for Aaron. He desperately tried to remember which set up was in which room.
Room seven…
Was that the one with the sling or the cage? He couldn’t remember.
He was still none the wiser when he found himself standing outside the door with a big iron
seven bolted onto the woodwork. His mind might have been spiralling out of control in a dozen
different directions, but his body was running on automatic pilot and didn’t wait for any orders to
be issued by his brain before lifting his hand and knocking politely on the door.
“Enter.”
Aaron’s body still didn’t wait for his mind to catch up. He turned the handle and pushed open the
door.
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Patterson stood on the far side of the room. Aaron had never actually seen the dominant wearing
anything that wasn’t leather, but as Aaron laid eyes on the other man he became acutely aware that,
for the first time, he was looking at Patterson in his play clothes rather than his work clothes.
The leather the dominant usually wore was functional, practical and good quality, but Aaron
stalled in the doorway as he ran his eyes over what Patterson was wearing right then. The leather
trousers moulded themselves to the dominant’s body like a second skin. It wasn’t the kind of
leather a man wore when he was going to be doing paperwork in the back room or play referee to a
bunch of bratty doms who couldn’t remember the rules of his club.
It looked far more like what a man wore when he was actually interested in the man he was
planning to do a scene with. It was what a man wore when he was planning to whip a man into a
frenzy of endorphins, screw the hell out of him, make him beg for anything and everything in the
world, and generally give a submissive the best night of his life.
“Close the door, Aaron.”
Aaron closed the door. The dominant still had his back to him, his skin was bare from his waist
to where his hair covered the back of his neck—thick black strands that Aaron had longed to touch
since the first moment he set eyes on the other man, three months ago, when he’d interviewed him
for the security door-man’s job.
Unsure what he should do, Aaron shuffled his feet and remained just inside the door, waiting for
an order. Finally, Patterson turned away from the rack of toys on the other side of the room that he
was so interested in, and looked in Aaron’s direction.
As he leaned back against the edge of the bondage bench next to the toy rack, the overhead lights
illuminated every lean line of muscle in the older man’s body. They even picked out a few touches of
gray at the dominant’s temples.
“Your safe word is red.”
Aaron nodded.
“Unless you’re wearing a gag or sucking me off, I expect verbal responses.”
“Yes, sir,” Aaron managed to say. It wasn’t in him to keep his eyes on the other man’s face then.
His attention dropped straight to Patterson’s cock. He could see the outline of the dominant’s shaft
through the leather.
“Aaron.”
The submissive dragged his eyes up.
“Focus.”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered again.
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“You’re going to belong to me for the next four hours. If you don’t say your safe word, I’ll do
whatever I want with you. You understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Patterson didn’t look as if he believed him.
Suddenly well aware that he was making a complete idiot out of himself, Aaron did his best to
pull himself together. “I understand the way scenes work, sir.”
Patterson appeared neither relieved nor impressed by his reassurance. Straightening up, he
stepped away from the bondage bench. “Come here.”
Aaron slowly made his way forward.
“Give me your clothes. You’ll get them back when I’m finished with you.”
“Yes, sir.” Automatically undoing his coat Aaron shrugged it off his shoulders and handed it to
the dominant.
Setting the garment to one side, Patterson quickly turned his attention back to Aaron and
watched him strip the rest of his clothes away.
Wasting time wasn’t going to make him look any more like the kind of submissive men that
Patterson liked to own. He wouldn’t turn into someone like Ben when the clock struck midnight. He
had far more chance of turning into a bloody pumpkin.
Scrambling out of his clothes, Aaron handed every item over to Patterson, until he stood
completely naked in front of the leather clad dominant. He’d never thought he’d miss that ridiculous
leather thong and the belt with those cuffs locked to it that he’d worn at the slave auction. But, at
least when he’d been bound by those cuffs, he’d known what to do with his hands.
As Patterson slowly walked around him, Aaron clenched and unclenched his fists, but he had no
idea how to stand, how to hold himself as he was assessed. The dominant was behind him, out of his
line of sight, when Aaron felt fingers brush against his forearm. He jumped, but Patterson’s hand
didn’t release the hold it had taken around his wrist.
The dominant said nothing as he guided Aaron’s hand up to the back of his head. Another second
passed and saw Patterson guiding Aaron’s other hand to join the first on his head and link his
fingers neatly together.
A gentle tap of one leather booted foot to the inside of Aaron’s ankle was enough to convince him
to shuffle his feet shoulder width apart. Aaron closed his eyes. While it was nice to know exactly
how the older man wanted him to stand, being presented like that for his inspection, unable to hide
his reaction to it, soon had the heat rushing to his cheeks. His cock had been hard from the start, but
now it was curving back toward his stomach.
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“How often do you work out?”
Aaron blinked his eyes open. Patterson was standing directly in front of him.
The submissive tried to answer and failed. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Most days, sir.”
Reaching out to him, Patterson ran his fingers along the muscles in Aaron’s right arm. He didn’t
seem particularly impressed, he didn’t seem particularly anything. It was almost as if he didn’t see
anything the least bit strange in the man he was dominating carrying so much more muscle than
him.
The older man’s touch moved to Aaron’s chest. His hand stroked its way across his pecs until his
fingertips found a nipple. He caught the little nub of nerve endings between the digits and squeezed,
hard.
Aaron whole body jerked. A shocked little noise escaped from the back of his throat. Patterson
smiled and calmly went back to caressing his muscles. There was nothing delicate about the
dominant’s touch. It was light, but in a way that only seemed to emphasise that he was choosing to
keep it that way rather than incapable of making it harsher should the mood strike him.
“Does it help?”
“Sir?” Aaron managed. The older man’s hand was making its way down his abs and it was
impossible for him not to feel that the other man had any destination in mind other than his cock.
“All these layers of muscle you’ve worked so hard to achieve. Do they help you feel safer in your
own skin?”
Aaron just blinked at him.
“You’re obviously not a vain man, Aaron. And I’d be very surprised to find that you’re
competitive enough to enjoy out bench-pressing every man you meet.”
All Aaron could do was stare back at the dominant as Patterson held his gaze.
“The only reason a man like you gains all these muscles is to hide behind them. Does being
strong actually help you feel safe?”
Aaron shook his head. “No, sir.”
“No,” Patterson murmured. “I didn’t think it would.”
“I…”
“A submissive only ever truly feels safe when he’s wrapped up in someone else’s strength,”
Patterson said, perfectly calmly, as if they weren’t talking about anything more life changing than
the weather.
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Lifting his hand from where it had lingered on Aaron’s stomach, he stroked his knuckles down
his cheek. “You have no idea just how much you need a good master to look after you, do you,
Aaron?”
Swallowing rapidly, Aaron didn’t even attempt to find any words to make a reply. All he could do
was hold the dominant’s gaze, and pray that Patterson could see whatever he needed to know
reflected in his eyes.
Even though he was much narrower across the shoulders than Aaron, Patterson was also well
over six feet tall, only an inch or so shorter than him, that should have made it easy to look him in
the eye, but it didn’t.
The older man smiled slightly. He nodded as if he understood everything in the whole world and,
right then, Aaron had no doubt Patterson really was as omnipotent as he looked.
“Kneel.”
Submissives like Ben could lower themselves to their knees with so much easy grace that it
barely seemed like there were joints operating behind the movement. Aaron had seen them do it a
million times. But, as Aaron slowly descended, first to one knee and then the other, he’d never felt
more clumsy in his life. His limbs were too long, there was far too much of him and—
Patterson’s knuckle came to rest under his chin and the dominant tilted Aaron’s head back until
he had little choice but to look up at the older man and meet his gaze.
And, suddenly it didn’t matter how tall he was. Down on his knees, he’d never felt smaller before
another man, and he’d never loved that rare, perfect feeling as much as he did right then either.
The dominant ran his hand over Aaron’s head. His hair was too short for anyone to grab hold of,
but the older man didn’t seem to mind too much. Aaron cautiously moved his own hands down the
back of his head, to make more of his scalp available to the other man’s touch.
“How many times have you imagined yourself kneeling for me since you started working here?”
Aaron didn’t have words to answer him. He didn’t have a single syllable in his head.
The dominant chuckled. “Never mind. It’s probably no more often than I’ve pictured you like
this.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Aaron, but that didn’t stop the submissive
relishing the older man’s words.
“You really…?” Aaron whispered.
Patterson stroked his fingers casually across Aaron’s face until they brushed across his lips.
“Imagined you sucking my cock?” he finished for him.
Aaron parted his lips, but no words emerged.
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Patterson didn’t complain about his silence. He simply slipped two of his fingers into Aaron’s
mouth and made them quickly at home there, easily encouraging Aaron to lick the digits and suck
around them.
“Imagined you meant something more than common leather-clad courtesy every time you called
me sir?” Patterson went on.
There was no way he could answer unless the dominant chose to remove his fingers. He was
effectively gagged and had never been more grateful for permission to stay silent.
“Imagined you bound to a rack, completely helpless and unable to come while I teased you for
hours on end? Tied to an Andrews while I whipped you again and again, so gently you’d beg for a
real kiss from the whip?” The dominant slid his fingers deeper into Aaron’s mouth, making him
murmur with pleasure. “There are lots of things I’ve imagined doing with you.”
Patterson took his fingers out of his mouth then. Aaron licked his lips, suddenly desperate to feel
the other man’s cock slide between his lips and fill the emptiness left behind after his digits
retreated. “Please?” The word escaped before he could stop it.
Patterson stroked his thumb down Aaron’s chin, gently parting his lips once more. His touch was
so gentle, as if the man somehow thought he was the most delicate, fragile thing he’d ever laid
hands on in his life, yet there was no humour in his eyes, he didn’t look like he was laughing at
Aaron’s expense.
Frowning up at him, Aaron desperately tried to work the older man out.
“You may consider your debt to the slave auction paid.”
Aaron pulled away as Patterson’s words hit the air. He quickly removed his hands from the back
of his head, all his worse fears confirmed in one swift blow.
It was his own fault for falling for an unattainable fantasy, he told himself. Why the hell would a
dominant like Patterson by interested in someone like him anyway?
*
“But that doesn’t mean I want you to leave,” Patterson added. He watched the submissive very
carefully. For all he was a big strong guy, Patterson couldn’t help but think he was also the most
fragile submissive he’d ever set eyes on. That, far more than the gorgeous muscles, drew him closer
to the other man.
Crouching down in front of the muscle bound sub, Patterson brought them back to an equal
height. “Game players may like the idea of ordering a man around all night and knowing he’ll do
whatever they say just because they’ve paid for the pleasure,” he said. “But I’m not a game player.”
Aaron held his gaze, but he didn’t say a single word in response.
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“This isn’t a game to me,” Patterson waved a hand toward the toys that surrounded them.
“Neither are you.”
Aaron’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he still didn’t speak.
“What I want to do, is to take you upstairs, out of the club and into my flat and for you to obey
me. Not because you want to help a good cause. Not because Ben talked you into something. I want
you to put yourself in my hands for no other reason than that’s exactly where you want to be.”
The submissive’s lips slowly parted. “Yes, sir.”
Patterson was well aware that there were times when ‘yes, sir’ was nothing more nor less than
the punctuation that filled the gaps in conversations between a dominant and a submissive. It
wasn’t really agreement or acceptance, it was merely something a submissive could say to indicate
that he had heard and understood what had been said just before.
Right then, as he and Aaron faced each other in the centre of the playroom, Patterson had never
been more certain that this wasn’t one of those times. Aaron’s eyes screamed acceptance, and
desire, and submission, and a million other things that swirled around those emotions.
Patterson stood up. Aaron remained exactly where he was.
Keeping his movement slow and calm, unwilling to spook the boy when everything still balanced
on the sharpest of knife edges, Patterson selected a length of leather and chain from the rack of
toys.
It only took him a few seconds to have a loop of silver links around Aaron’s neck and the leather
handle of the lead secured around his own wrist. Of course, it wasn’t a collar as such. There would
be time enough for something like that in the future, but it would hardly be appropriate then, not
between men who weren’t playing games.
Still, Patterson smiled slightly as he saw something inside Aaron relax as the physical connection
between them let him know that he was safe and controlled, owned by another man for the first
time.
“Hands behind your back.”
Aaron obeyed.
“On your feet.”
A touch of uncertainty came into the submissive's eyes as he brought himself to his full, and
admittedly rather impressive, height. It was almost as if being on his knees had allowed him to feel
small, to feel submissive-sized for a little while.
Patterson gave a mental chuckle as his gaze automatically honed in on Aaron’s lips. It would
hardly be a hardship to keep a man with a mouth like that on his knees a great deal of the time.
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A very gentle tug on the lead negated any need for a verbal command as Patterson turned
around. Aaron followed him across to the door in the furthest corner of the room without ever
letting the lead grow taut between them.
The inconspicuous exit led straight up to the fire exit for his private flat above the club. Aaron
made no comment on that as he trailed along behind him. He offered no complaint about the cold
that lingered in the little used stairwell. But, when Patterson finally led him into the small living
room set off the landing and turned to face Aaron, he had no doubt that all of the submissive's
insecurities had come flooding back.
Having already discovered one thing that made the submissive feel more at ease in his own skin,
it would have been stupid not to make use of it. “On your knees.”
Aaron didn’t hesitate to follow the command and the simple fact he now had to look up to meet
Patterson’s eyes soon seemed to help him calm down.
Stepping past him, Patterson kept hold of the lead as he moved to sit in one of the comfortable
old arm chairs that flanked the flat’s only fireplace. Keeping his pace slow, he made it easy for Aaron
to follow him while still on his knees. A gentle tug called the boy forward to position himself
between Patterson’s legs.
He didn’t need any further encouragement. Aaron shuffled forward. He even gained the courage
to lean in and press a kiss against Patterson’s leather covered erection without needing a direct
order.
Gazing down at him with complete approval, Patterson settled his free hand on the younger
man’s head and merely accepted the licks and kisses he pressed against him as if they were his due.
There was no need for praise or to make a fuss over the other man. Acceptance was all the
submissive really needed from him right then, and Patterson let the silent offering last several
minutes before he slipped his hand between them and undid the specially lengthened fly in his
leather trousers, giving Aaron access to his whole crotch.
Once more settling his hand on the back of the other man’s head, Patterson guided Aaron to lean
forward and take his cock between his lips for the first time. There was no need to apply even the
slightest force. The lightest guidance was more than enough.
Even so, as he settled both his hands on the larger man’s head, Patterson let Aaron feel a more
dominant man directing his movements, holding him steady when he wanted him to focus on
lapping at the tip and swirling his tongue around the sensitive glans, then leading him forward
when he wanted more of the hard shaft to be cocooned in the wet heat of his mouth.
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The boy had an undeniable talent for fellatio. More than that, he had blatant enthusiasm for it
too. Patterson smiled down at the submissive as pleasure rushed through him, almost as much of it
coming from his mind as his cock as he gloried in the submission being offered to him. Aaron
murmured his own enjoyment, sending another wave of bliss through the dominant.
The slow, almost worshipful attentions soon had Patterson on the edge. From the look in Aaron’s
eyes as he glanced up at him, the untouched submissive wasn’t far behind him. Patterson tightened
his hold on the younger man’s head, holding him in place as he rocked his hips and thrust his cock
deep into Aaron’s willing mouth.
The submissive took it easily, sucking and swallowing around him, as if trying to beg the orgasm
out of him by any means possible. Aaron hadn’t forgotten his dominant’s earlier order. His hands
were still behind him and Patterson sensed the other man rest in his control as he pulled Aaron off
balance. The submissive didn’t even try to reach out and steady himself.
The trust, the purity of his submission, mixed with the raw desire he saw in Aaron’s eyes and
rushed down Patterson’s spine. As it collided with the heat and friction surrounding his cock,
Patterson tossed his head back.
Yelling out his pleasure, he held Aaron’s head still, filling his mouth with cum as his orgasm tore
through him. Ecstasy seemed to reach out into every part of his body, until he felt it in every fibre of
his body, even after he fell still and collapsed back against the armchair.
Blinking his eyes open, Patterson looked down at the submissive. Aaron’s head was still bowed
over his lap, his lips wrapped delicately around the softening shaft.
Ruffling the younger man’s hair as much as the short strands would allow, Patterson took away
his hands and allowed him to lift his head, but Aaron didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush. A glance
down at the floor by his feet confirmed to Patterson’s satisfaction that it wasn’t because he’d
actually already come from the sheer bliss of pleasing a dominant.
Aaron was still hard and frustrated, but there was no way anyone could doubt that all his
attention was still on his lover. His focus remained on Patterson as the dominant straightened his
clothes and tucked himself neatly away. Even after that, Aaron showed no inclination to rise from
his place at his feet.
“You’re allowed to stand,” Patterson told him, as a less than acceptable thought occurred to him.
Kneeling was all well and good, but it wouldn’t do to let the boy think he’d only belong to him when
he was cut off at the knees.
Aaron frowned slightly as he received the permission, confirming all of the dominant’s
suspicions.
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Patterson continued to stare at him until the submissive got the hint and rose reluctantly to his
feet. Aaron didn’t seem to know what to do with himself then. For the first time, he took a step back
from Patterson.
“I have no need to make myself feel like a big man by forcing a submissive to feel small,”
Patterson informed him. There weren’t going to be any misunderstandings between them on that
score.
*
“But, you do, sir.” It took all of Aaron’s strength to force the words out.
Patterson raised an eyebrow at him.
“You do make me feel small…” Aaron whispered. He turned away from the dominant then,
unable to hold his gaze a second longer. Stepping toward the window set into the bay overlooking
the garden behind the club, he stared out through the glass into the night sky. “…in a good way.”
He sensed the older man move, even though he never heard him make a sound, but he still
jumped when Patterson’s arms came around him. The dominant’s hands caressed their way across
his chest, with complete confidence in his right to touch him in any way he wanted.
A second later, Patterson’s legs pressed against the back of Aaron’s knees and pushed forward.
The joints immediately gave way. Aaron’s knees landed heavily on the padded bench beneath the
bay window.
The dominant tugged Aaron roughly back to lean against him. His head barely came up to the
older man’s shoulder when they were arranged that way.
“Like this?” Patterson asked.
Small in a good way… Aaron nodded, cautiously leaning into Patterson’s touch and turning his
head so his cheek rubbed against the older man’s chest. Yes, that was exactly how it felt.
“That’s not about feeling small,” Patterson whispered to him. “It’s about realising your just the
right size.”
Aaron nodded again, relishing the way the dominant’s skin brushed against his cheek, even as he
blushed at the idea of any man ever considering anything about him perfect, let alone a dominant
like Patterson ever saying so out loud.
“I don’t see what would be so hot about a lover who has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss me,” the
dominant informed him. His tone was serious, but Aaron could practically hear the smile in the
other man’s voice too. “It’s getting late.”
Aaron stopped smiling, but Patterson laughed when he seemed to notice that.
“Do you really think I’d send you to anyone’s bed but mine, Aaron?”
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He looked up at the dominant as Patterson took hold of the handle of the lead still hanging
around Aaron’s neck. Stepping back, Patterson gave a gentle tug on it and ordered him to his feet.
Within seconds, the older man had led him back into what could only be his own bedroom.
Once again unsure what to do with himself, Aaron stayed near the door when Patterson let go of
his lead. Habit made him do his best to be as small and as inconspicuous as possible but as he
looked around the room, the submissive’s gaze fell on an envelope that stole all his attention.
Aaron.
He frowned at his name for several seconds before he could bring the appropriate query to his
lips. “Sir?”
Patterson glanced across at him, then followed his gaze to the envelope. “Ben asked me to keep it
for you and give it to you on Christmas morning.” The dominant glanced at his watch. “It’s after
midnight. If you want to open it, you can.”
Stepping further into the room, Aaron did as the dominant suggested.
Ben’s messy handwriting scrawled across the page in bright purple ink.
Sorry I couldn’t wrap him for you, darling. I’d have loved to tie a big pretty bow around his neck,
but dominants are such a bugger to pack! Still, I really hope you’re enjoying your Christmas present,
sugar. It’s about bloody time you two got it together and since there was no way in hell he’d let any
other dom win you in that auction, it was far too good an opportunity to miss.
Merry Christmas, darling!
Ben.
“He’s right.”
Aaron spun around.
Patterson didn’t look as if he felt the least bit guilty for reading over his shoulder. He held his
gaze and smiled as if he knew he had the right to do whatever he wanted with him. “I might have
been willing to bide my time and wait for you to find your feet in the club while you weren’t even
flirting with another dom, but there’s no way in hell I’d have ever let another man lay a hand on
you, let alone place the winning bid on you in that idiotic auction.”
“Ben’s…” Aaron tried to explain, as he folded up the note paper and pushed it back into the
envelope.
“A complete brat? A reasonable bartender on those rare occasions he manages to keep his mind
on his job? An incorrigible flirt? A good friend to you?”
“All of the above, sir?” Aaron hesitated.
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Seeming to lose interest in the conversation then, Patterson took the letter from his fingers and
set it down on the cabinet. Slipping his hand into Aaron’s, the dominant walked backward toward
the bed.
As his feet automatically carried him forward, Aaron stared at the other man’s hand wrapped
around his, as if it were the most miraculous thing he’d ever seen.
“Just this once, I’m going to give you permission to obey another man’s orders,” Patterson
suddenly announced.
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